


Parasitism

by Sicklikeme



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Basically rock-paper-scissors, Force-Feeding, Gen, Humans rule, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Muzzles, Other, Pack Dynamics, Plenty of plot actually, Porn With Plot, Power Play, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Tension, Vampires, Violence, Werewolves, vampire/werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sicklikeme/pseuds/Sicklikeme
Summary: Or "the living together of unlike organisms."Graham is a vampire in a world ruled by humans. And that could even be okay, if the everlasting need for blood didn't push the whole race on the border of slavery. Tired of endless queues, tons of bureaucracy and  the humiliating feeding procedure, he soon decides to take the matter in his own hands. That being, stealing anything that's not nailed to the floor and offering it to the local werewolf clan. In exchange for a bite, of course.





	1. 0.1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viola/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Viola.  
> Sorry, I am late.  
> Happy birthday :)

He shifted, pushing the flame deeper into the swelling metal. The small movement was enough to reveal a patch of flesh between the jumpsuit and his thick gloves. Graham hissed in pain as his skin creased and ripped.  
"Fuck. Bloody fucking fuck!"  
He threw the electrode in the bucket hanging next to him, causing it to bang loudly against the metal scaffolding. He lifted his welding mask to examine the damage.  
A good chunk of his skin was missing and the rest was covered in oozing blisters. It expanded under the long sleeves of the jumpsuit and yes, it hurt like a motherfucker.  
It was his third burn that night.  
A quick glance to the clock attached to his belt informed him that it was 1:28 am. Only 90 minutes, give or take, left on his shift. He briefly considered going back to work, but the familiar sickening sense of starvation was nudging the border between distress and torment. Hunger made him sloppy.  
He looked around warily, but the other workers seemed focused on their duties. There weren't many on the skeleton of the seventh floor, just a handful in his line of sight and that leech of his manager shouting in the distance.  
He unclipped the security harness and swiftly climbed up the scaffolding. He perched on a corner of the metal framework, his feet hanging in the void. Graham inhaled, letting the polluted atmosphere invade his atrophied lungs. It was a habit, not a need, and as always came with a slight twinge of nostalgia.  
The wind was a pain up there, breaking strands of his long brown hair from the bun on top of his head and killing any flame his abused lighter managed to cough up. It took him a few attempts before he managed to light up a cigarette.  
He took a deep drag. The dense smoke coated his tongue and burnt his throat, leaving a leaden taste in his dry mouth. He felt a bit better. Of course it was not enough, it was never enough, but it was a bit of a distraction from his restless cravings.  
He resisted the impulse of looking at the time, aware that the remaining 73 minutes that separated him from the end of the day were not going to pass any faster. Instead, he focused on the impressive skyline.  
Santa Monica was monstrous in the sharp artificial light. The city swelled and writhed as a cancerous growth. Pipes and chimneys stretched out from the chunky buildings like engorged limbs. They sprawled in every direction, oozing fumes and leaking waste. The night air was thick with poison.  
It pushed, that monstrosity, against a huge walls of the Fort. He remembered they used to shine, once, but the time tarnished their silver coating and turned them in a spotty mess. He did not have to turn to take in the familiar view. The Fort was, after all, always in his mind. He felt its presence drilling against the back of his head.  
He quickly took another deep puff, almost chocking on the dense smoke. But it didn't matter.  
He felt his teeth sharp and grow against the tender flesh of his mouth, the ashen taste of his own blood, his body tensed and twisted as his face grimaced with uncontrollable need.  
The truth was that it never mattered. It didn't matter how many pills he dropped, how much smoke he shoved down his lungs, how much canned synth plasma he sunk his teeth in.  
He could still feel the life behind the border. The sound of the blood pumping, of the hearts beating, of the flesh moving. The vulnerability of the half a million preys hidden inside the silver fortress, their pulsing beat drilling inside his crazed brain. He growled, as his whole being twisted with anguished desire. He dug his claws in his already butchered arm. The chunks of skin were mending slowly, the healing process painfully sluggish.  
Fuck.  
He really needed some B.

 

He felt his presence just seconds before his rocky voice interrupted his trains of thoughts.  
"Ehi Batman, get the fuck down and get back to work. Where do you think you are, a Club Med?"  
Gideon was pissed. Not really a surprise.  
Gideon cared about his job.  
He took it seriously.  
Graham considered putting up some token resistance, but he was too fucking wrecked for managing much more than a scornful hiss.  
"Roger, roger. On my way."  
He reached the lower floor with a not-so- graceful jump. He stumbled, as a surge of nausea melted his knees. He did his best to ignore Gideon's glowing eyes and started fumbling with the security harness.  
"What? I am doing it, am I not? So now you can get off my ass and..."  
Before he could finish Gideon's grabbed his arm, forcing Graham to turn towards his short figure.  
"Holy fuck, Johnson, you look like shit." He commented, staring at Graham's deep dark circles, cracking skin and bleeding jaw.  
"Thanks, jefe, you always know how to flatter a boy."  
"How long since you fed?"  
"Who are you, my mother?"  
Graham grimaced in pain as the big man lifted him like a toy and slammed him against the metal pillar.  
Graham wasn't a small thing. He was short and young looking, but he was stout and bulky, with long brown hair, a crooked nose and mean red eyes. If they were humans, probably Graham could have had the upper hand on the small man. But between vampires it was never a matter of size. Gideon was older and he was fed.  
Graham hissed, baring his already sharpened teeth, but Gideon held him in place.  
"How long since you fed?" he repeated. He spelled out every word, slowly. His tone was calmer, quieter, but still drenched in threat.  
Almost a month, Graham thought.  
"Three weeks", he lied.  
Gideon sighed, massaging his forehead with one of his callous hands "No wonder..."  
"What, you worry for me, jefe?"  
Gideon growled, pushing him on the ground. Graham fell, his head spinning. From the concrete floor he could see the other workers ogling the scene.  
"Go. Now. Next time I see you coming at work this fucked, you are fired."  
Graham scrambled to his feet and started to walk off, obviously enraged. But he knew. The old leech was right. He needed to feed.  
" And Johnson... you go into frenzy under my watch, you can stay sure that you won't find any other frigging job, not in Santa Monica, not anywhere else. Your smart ass is gonna end up buried so fucking deep that not even the maggots will be able to find ya."

 

He took the company's van. It was dirty and loud, with a purple toothed hammer on the right side. Talking about tacky.  
But Graham quite enjoyed driving. Plus, he wasn't too sure that his weakened body would have been able to take the toll of a full-fledged run.  
Graham drove feverishly, with all the windows pulled down and a rock tape playing at max volume.  
He was pissed.  
But there was nothing he could do about that.  
That knowledge only threw gasoline on the fire.  
It didn't take him long to arrive.  
The roads were almost empty, save for the occasional rusty vehicle and sporadic group of intoxicated night dwellers. Everybody was probably still buried in one of the many factories, or construction site, or getting high in the local watering hole. Also, Vamps were not crazy for cars. Why go through the hassle of petrol when you got super speed?  
He didn't bother with parking. He just pushed hard on the brakes, raising a cloud of dust as he dumped the van on the walking path next to a colorful sign. Furbylicious Toy Factory. Charming.  
It seemed like he picked a quite common littering spot. The smell of blood, piss and vomit was almost overwhelming, but it felt almost like perfume compared to the pungent scent of the silver. Even if he did not need to breath, the pressure burnt his nostrils and the back of his throat. The Fort was close by, less than 500 meters away.  
The Trough pointed out of the wall as a rotten tooth. It was an old building, coated in tarnished silver, with a pompous high roof to contrast with a bunch of moldy stairs and a wonky double door. The tasteless red neon sign on the top announced: West Hampton Feeding Facility.  
He could see the crowd overflow from the torn out doors.  
Graham hesitated, leaning against the van, looking at the swarm while dragging his feet in the dust.  
"Fuck."  
He lit himself another cigarette, just to do something, just to take time.  
"One last fag before the ordeal, uh?"  
Graham let out a half smile, before offering the roll-up to the darkness behind him. He didn't have to turn to recognize the voice.  
"Hei, Magnus. On your way to the Trough?"  
"Nah. New job. Told ya, ain't I? I make toys now. "  
Graham raised an eyebrow, glancing suspiciously at the building behind them. Lanky, with sunken eyes and a messy bushy beard, even when he was alive, Magnus was the type of man that conceited mums used to scare the kids away from drugs. "  
_I bet at the beginning it was just weed. But you see, you see what happens?_  
Graham chuckled at the mental image of the uncanny man fiddling with colorful pieces of fluff.  
"No shit? You make Teddy bears?"  
Magnus' laugh was hissy and coarse. He leaned on the van, right next to Graham, offering him the flickering flame of a used up zippo.  
"I wish. We are doing this sort of tacky Barbie dolls...do you remember those, don't ya?" Graham nodded. Yes, he did remember. He even had a sister, once. He ignored the weak twinge of sadness following the thought. It had the deaf soreness of old wound. But it was still there,no doubt. He really did not know if he should have been annoyed or relieved about that fact.  
"Well, ye, we do those. They have this Vamp Hunter series out now...they come with a pink UV gun. Like, man, I wish Hunters were like this, right. All tiny mini skirt and puffy lips."  
Graham snorted "The fuck?"  
"I know right? The package says that it's supposed to be empowering but...well, it's better than the Vamp Donor line we got last month. Unrealistic as all fuck. It didn't even have a pump, just this sort of shitty pinkish plastic straw and sparkles instead of B and.."  
"That is just gross. And we are the freaks, ain't we?"  
"So they say, my friend. So they say."  
Graham took a deep drag, looking at the void. They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes as the rest of their smoke slowly withered.  
"Must be a better way."  
Magnus smirked.  
"Really? You know Graham, this really brings me back to College."  
Graham snorted.  
"You know what I mean. If knew it would have ended up like this...it ain't exactly what we signed up for, right?"  
Magnus laugh echoed in the night like a rusty saw. "You actually got to sign up? Lucky bitch."

 

There were a bunch of velvet-covered couches, a couple of dozen of chairs and a cluster of mismatched tables.  
The Trough's lobby could have passed for a dentist waiting room.  
A very well guarded waiting room, that said, completed with a couple of guards in Exoskeleton and UV guns. And a metal detector. It could, if it wasn't for the fact that everything, included the walls, was scarred, obviously patched over or covered in claw marks.  
That, and the starved vampires. There were dozens of them. They paced around the area like caged desperate animals. Each with a muzzle fitted against their face, keeping their jaw shut tight. Some were bleeding profusely through the solid steel of cage where their elongated canines punctured their flesh.  
The smell was foul.  
Graham approached the front desk. Slowly, reluctantly, while fumbling with his ratty backpack, digging between empty packs of cigarettes, sticky pills and ruined pens. He felt dizzy. The sound of the pulsing blood was earsplitting. He could feel it, throbbing, just behind the silver sliding doors on the other end of the room.  
The cramps in his stomach were excruciating.  
"Graham Johnson. Long time no see."  
It sounded more like an accusation than a greeting. Graham sighed, bringing his attention to the vampire behind the counter. Of course. Lucky him. HVI faithful hound.  
Brenda was a thin woman, with thick purple glasses covering her eyes and messy blond mop hair. Of course, the glasses were for show as much as her shabby appearance. She was pretty old, even for a bloodsucker, and Graham saw her splat more than a couple of unlucky souls in a fraction of second.  
He forcefully summoned a grimace that could have passed for a smile, as he handed her his identification card.  
"You know, Brenda. Busy time."  
"Uh. You working on the new dorm, right?"  
"Ya.Ya. That fuck's gonna be huge."  
"Mmh" she chewed on the back of her pen, nodding absent mindlessly while she swiped his card inside a beeping machine. His profile appeared on the screen of the old desk top. He could see the reflection in her thick lenses. A picture of his slightly younger self, the symbol of his corporation, his ID number, some notes on his medical history and his Feeding schedule  
His programmed feeding appointment had been two weeks prior. He squirmed on the spot, trying to ignore Brenda's inquisitive look.  
"28 days? Is it a hunger strike or are you going for anorexia?"  
He decided to cut it short. Last thing he needed was even more shit from the HVI.  
"As I said, been busy. Now gimme the thing, kay, so I can get a fix."  
She clicked her tongue, holding his gaze for couple of seconds.  
"Be careful, Graham. You aren't a fledgling anymore but you can't keep pulling those stunts."  
"Are you threatening me, Brenda?"  
A cold smile stretched her thin lips. Graham noticed that her mouth was little too big for her pointy face.  
"...no. Of course, no. Take it as friendly advice, won't you? We don't want our precious specialized workers to get hurt, after all."  
She reached under the counter and handed him a worn out muzzle. He hesitated, but then he took it with a small shiver.  
"It may be a bit tight for you. But we got lots of people today."  
Bitch. Graham nodded and dished out an equally fake grin.  
His mind wanted him to run, to turn on his heels and disappear in the night, but his crazed instinct was butchering any rational thought. He reluctantly pushed the metal thing against his own face. Graham's desperate need clashed brutally with the sense of revulsion. The sound of the lock bolting into place made his stomach turn in outrage.  
But there was literally no other way. Not better, not worse.  
Animal didn't do either. Synth blood didn't work. Stored blood packs had been one of the first causes of death in the early times. At the end of the day, it had to come from one fucking source. And of course, there was no way they would have gotten a vamp to sink its teeth in anything remotely fleshy.  
Graham slouched on one of the puffy couches, in the far corner of the room. He even managed to find his Walkman in the bottom of his backpack.  
He maxed out the volume.  
He knew he needed it.  


"40560...Graham Johnson?"  
Almost two hours later, a nurse came to take him. She was cute in a bookish way, with shapely hips and short dark hair. He could see her sharp canines peeking out under the smeared lipstick. Her entrance had been accompanied by a burst of hostility. If looks could kill, she would have met the true and eternal death in a matter of seconds.  
She was, of course, accompanied by a guard in full Exoskeleton.  
The man, or the incredibly tall woman, for what he knew, didn't lose any time. "Up" he --it was definitely a he -- ordered. Graham had barely the time to obey, before the guard proceeded to shove him through the metal detector with the back of his gun.  
"This stays here" he growled, throwing Graham's backpack in the nearby basket.  
"Parkinson..." the nurse sighed.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
She glanced at the soldier with resigned aggravation before proceeding to shackle Graham's exposed wrists. The high pitched alarm shook his brain, as the reinforced doors opened with ruckus of locks bolting open. The sound dazzled him, and he was taken by surprise when the guard grabbed him by his shirt's collar and launched him forward.  
The corridor was long and familiar. It run under the Fort's thick wall, up to the feeding rooms. The weight of the silver on top of him was suffocating– paradoxical for someone that doesn't need to breath.  
The soldier kept manhandling him, pulling his shirt, dragging him along like a misbehaving child.  
Graham could easily see the visceral fear badly hidden by the uncalled brutality.  
Not really an excuse to be a dick.  
"Ease out, SPAM, I ain't gonna chunk ya. You reek." The muzzle smothered his voice in a husky hiss.  
Graham almost lost his balance as the guard stopped abruptly.  
_Bingo._  
"What did you say?"  
It had been so easy that he could almost see the bewildered expression of his watchdog under the helm.  
"The scent of your fear is ghastly."  
The guard shoved him against the wall, stumbling backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself, the nurse and the muzzled vampire,  
"You said he couldn't smell me!"  
He couldn't. The armor smelled like heated metal, blocking out any possible human scent from pouring out and rile up the already edged vampires. But hitting so close to home gave him a considerable satisfaction, even when found himself with a UV gun pressed against his forehead.  
The nurse was livid.  
"He cannot. So chill, Parkinson. You better get used to this shit or you should look for another job."  
"Shut the fuck up, you filthy...filthy heathen. You better get back to your frigging place or..."  
She was on him in seconds. Every trace of bookish charm erased from her heart-shaped face, her expression deformed and monstrous.  
"Or what, you stupid pulp of flesh? You know how many idiots want to look like fortified shrimps? Well, guess, there aren't that many leeches that are so ready to sign up for...this."  
Even the soldier must have been able to feel the desperation under the anger. Graham wasn't sure if due to sympathy or to fear, but that did shut him up. He lowered the gun with a dub folded expression.  
The nurse was panting hard.  
They didn't move, for almost a minute. The silence was heavy.  
Then she quickly composed herself and got back to her place, on Graham's other side, a cold smile stretching her lips.  
"I am very sorry. That was extremely unprofessional. I am gonna talk the Doctor into giving you a treat, okay?"

The feeding rooms all looked the same. They had the same identical white door with a black number painted on. Inside, there was the same cozy armchair, in front of the same small round table behind the same flamboyant cardboard divider. He was pushed on the much less colorful- much more menacing chair on the other side of the room. The nurse didn't look at him while closing the silver straps against his wrists and ankles. The skin burnt under the metal's pressure.  
The guard removed the muzzle. Graham's mouth was so dry that he felt like he had been eating chalk.  
When the Exoskeleton approached him holding a small metallic gag, he fought back. It was a reflex. He knew it was useless, but he still tried to bite down the armored fingers.  
The nurse sighed, fumbling with his hair, as she started setting up the equipment necessary for the transfusion.  
"Shh, shhh, let's not make it hurt more than strictly necessary, okay?"  
The soft condescending touch was enough to make his blood boil. His instinct screamed "traitor", as she pulled out the transparent hose. He wanted to hit her. More. He wanted to maul her.  
The clear ring of a bell made him jolt. The nurse glanced at the clock on the wall before rushing off, leaving the room from where they came.  
The guard remained, sat on a small stool in the far right corner.  
He grabbed a magazine and started skimming through the pages. He looked bored.  
Another ring. _Just to be sure._  
On the other side of the room, another door opened. A stout man entered, holding a folder and the last chunk of a doughnut. His old style bloated haircut was not enough to hide a prominent receding hairline. Graham didn't know his name. He always wore ugly ties with his dirty lab coat.  
"Thanks Parkinson for setting up our patient here...oho, 40560. Been a while since I had you."  
He cheerfully patted a hand on Graham's arm, causing the vampire to jolt, while briefly skimming through his file.  
"You are lucky, pal, we got a new donor tonight. Thank Annie for getting a good word for you." He went back to the door, holding it open. "Pam, sweetie? You coming?" Following the click of small rushed steps, a young woman entered the room. The doctor's grin was wide and proud. "Say hello to Pamela."  
Pamela was a small plump woman, with dull watery eyes and a nervous smile. She kept moving her soft little hand around, occasionally drying her sweaty palms on her long jeans skirt. She was utterly, deliciously terrified.  
If Graham managed to keep some sort of control in the presence of the doctor, the sweet smell of her fear was enough to short cut any sort of rationality he had lingering. He let out an animalistic snarl, struggling needlessly against the restrains. Pamela's little yelp did nothing but encourage is frantic need.  
All he could think was about his fangs sinking in her neck, ripping the flesh open. The heat of her blood on his own cold skin.  
"Ah, he is ready to hunt." The doctor commented with a chuckle. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Nothing to fear here. Our young leech is tied down. Cannot bite, you see?"  
He casually showed his fingers in Graham's open mouth, causing him to choke and cough. He could feel the drool pouring down his cramped jaw.  
"You see, ma'am, they are filthy beasts. Pitiful creature driven crazy by instinct. They need us more than we need them. And that says it all, as we need them a lot. Now, if you could please sit..."  
He gestured Pamela to sit on the puffy armchair behind the divider. She obeyed, of course she did, but she kept peeping behind the flimsy barrier. Graham could feel her gaze on his skin.  
He stared back, trying to regain his composure. To look like what she believed he was, what he should have been. A cold, dangerous predator. Still, he couldn't help it. As the doctor approached holding a long transparent tube, waves of panic, humiliation and outrage surged from his bowels, gripping his chest and making him in a frenzied, incoherent, trashing mess. It didn't matter how much he struggled, the restrains pinning his limbs were unaffected by his uncoordinated jolts.  
"Shh, stay put." The doctor cooed, while he started pushing the end of the tube down Graham's obscenely open throat.  
"What are you doing?"  
Pamela's voice was as shaky and moist as her plump skin.  
"Sorry, dear?" the doctor replied, while enthusiastically going on with his job.  
"Mary said that...that it would be against my neck and... "  
The doctor laughed out loud as he kept pushing and pushing. Graham started to wheeze like a drowning man. The sensation of the hose prying open his throat was utterly disgusting. He fought against his gag reflex, as every single muscle of his being contracted in revulsion.  
"I am afraid your sister was trying to pull your leg, Miss Olsen. We don't let them get their fangs anywhere near your skin. The process is 100% safe and requires no direct contact."  
The torture finally stopped. The doctor proceeded to attach the other end of the tube to a IV stand, before pulling out a second smaller one, with a needle on one hand and a big syringe on the other.  
"It seems painful. Is it painful?" Pamela inquired.  
"For them, you mean? Nothing to worry ma'am. It's just a bit uncomfortable. Once the blood will get pumping he will be all nice and peachy again Now, please, sweetheart give me your arm... It may sting a bit."  
Pamela let out a shrill yelp as the needle punctured her flesh.  
Graham writhed and jolted, his voice producing only incoherent desperate howls.The smell of blood, fresh blood, had been enough to send him ballistic. The man ignored his cries, as he pulled the syringe to get the blood to flow. He then proceeded to remove the syringe and to connect the smaller tube to the one's in Graham's throat. the doctor wasn't fast enough. A bouquet of small red drops stained the white ceramic floor. "Oops. Well, Annie will get this sorted later. But we are all set." The doctor smiled, casually tapping a manicured nail against the IV stand. As soon as the liquid started pouring in his stomach, Graham completely lost any reason. He could hear himself scream, the grip of the silver tighter against his trashing body.  
His last coherent thought was that the fucking guard was probably enjoying the goddamn show.

 

Pamela's eyes were glued to the scene. She shuddered, her pink mouth hanging in shock. The doctor sat next to her, on the other side of the table. He gently touched her hand, in the hope to distract her from that pitiful show. He was aware that the experience could be quite troubling for first timers.  
"How come you decided to become a donor, if I may ask?"  
The young woman blushed, squirming on her armchair, forcefully diverting her eyes from Graham's groveling form.  
"Oh, my family ...we want to move. Like, I am thinking of adopting and... they just built this adorable apartment, up on the Hillside. "  
She still sounded like if she was about to burst into tears. The doctor was starting to suspect that it was her natural tone. Still, he nodded eagerly.  
"Oh, yes, yes. I remember seeing the ads. Real little jewels, if I can say. Quite the expensive thing, though. You need at least three donors under 35 for one of those, uh?"  
She bit down on her lip, a blush reddening her full cheeks.  
"Four...my sister Mary, she is our designated Donor. Her husband as well. They met at the B camp..."  
"Yes, yes, that happens often."  
"So, we decided to join...me. I decided to join. And my husband, he is on the list for the next week, so..."  
Pamela jolted when Graham howled loudly. Their gaze met. The tears made her eyes even glisten in the artificial light. The doctor stood up with a sigh. He walked up to the cabinet and got out a tattered blindfold. "You are scaring the lady, can't you see? Behave..." the doctor whispered, while adjusting the straps constricting his neck and arms.  
Graham tried uselessly to scoot over, to get away from his latex coated touch, but he was soon plunged in the darkness.  
"I am sorry, ma'am, they can get a bit over excited sometimes. So, you were saying, about that adorable little house..."

 

A hour later, Pamela and the doctor left the room.  
"Thanks doctor..."  
"No worries, sweetie. My pleasure. If you could use a piece of advice, bring a pair of headphones and a nice book next time, uh?"  
They left Graham by himself, spread out in the darkness, filled to the point of sickness.  
Slowly, the tension in his stomach eased. It was almost painful, as his senses sharpened, taking in every single breath, every single step, every single heartbeat in the distance of miles. He could feel the life against his own skin.  
He yelled as his heart started pumping again, the air pushing in his lungs. The shock of life coming back to his corpse was something he could never get used to.  
He lost the sense of time as he lied there, the tube still deep in his stomach, his body shaken by a seizure-like quiver.  
He wasn't surprised when Annie, the nurse, slid inside the room. The clank of the guard's armor was painfully loud.  
He heard her fumble around the room, putting things away, cleaning the blood spilled on the white ceramic floor. He even managed to stay silent, as she slowly removed the plastic tube from his stomach. She delicately dried his mouth, as she took off the metal gag, replacing it with the muzzle. She then proceeded to unfasten the silver ties around his junctures.  
She kept the blindfold last.  
Their gaze met.  
Hers was a desperate apology.  
"You disgust me."  
His voice was coarse.  
She gave him a sad little smile. She looked tired.  
"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me at least a kudos (kudo?) if you enjoyed it.  
> I am not a native English speaker, but I got my very British, so not into slash, partner to proofread this thing. Blame him for any mistake.


	2. 0.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support <3
> 
> This is a work in progress. I am editing as I go, so here is last week’s “fixes” (on chapter 0.1, of course):  
> 1) H&V is now called HVI (Humans and Vampires Interactions)  
> 2) Minor fixes to the nurse (Annie)’s dialogue. The whole traitor thing is much more hinted and less “out there”.  
> 3) Various grammatical fixes. I am trying to cut down on adverbs but gosh, I am addicted by the little shits.  
> 4) The feeding system is a tiny bit more clear, also thanks to a bunch of documentaries about direct transfusion (the more you know).

“Are you fucking nuts?”  
Graham almost chocked on the bland-tasting AB+ Flavored Synth he was trying to chug.  
“What’s the problem Johnson? I am offering you, to quote your words, “a better way.”  
Magnus said, with the sardonic tone he used to abuse in his Radical-chic days.  
The one that made Graham’s fists itch to bash against his smug face.  
“You told me you had a serious offer.”  
“I do.”  
He lied back on the sticky couch, trying not to brush against the excessive bulk of the buff blonde sitting next him. Jude, he vaguely remembered.  
They might have met before, but immortality did not come with eternal memory.  He wished they could have gotten a bigger table, maybe one with freaking chairs and space for elbows, but _The Fanged Man_ was jam packed.  
Not surprisingly.  
While it served the most watered down Synth B pints of all Santa Monica, the small pub was wedged in the middle of Cape Hill’s industrial district.  
Maybe it wasn’t a great pick for a first date, but the mismatched furniture was not a hindrance for a quick drink after work.  
If you did work nearby.  
It took Graham almost an hour to get his ass through town. And there he was, after a frantic drive, stuck in a tiny not-so-private boot brushing knees with Magnus awkwardly long legs.  
And for _what?_  
“Dude, if I wanted to commit suicide, I would have taken a nice stroll under the sun.”  
Magnus puffed, rolling his eyes.  
“You are so frigging dramatic.”  
“ _I_ am dramatic?!”  
He really, really wanted to punch him.  
Graham pressed a hand against his forehead, trying to calm himself down.  
Technically he was in his fifties. He could at least try to be mature, right?  
“Okay, Magnus, let’s go back a step. You want to steal shit …”  
“Shhh!” Magnus fussed.  
Graham’s level of annoyance increased.  
It was not like anybody was really paying attention to them.  
Still, Graham lowered his voice.  
“You want to steal shit, put it inside _my_ company’s van, drive all the way to the Mauler and sell it to the fucking Lycans?”  
Magnus bashed the table with his open palm.  
“I said trade, not sell!”  
Graham shook his head. He was being ridiculous.  
“They are gonna chew your head off before they let your teeth anywhere near their carotid.”  
“They won’t. They need us.”  
Graham snorted.  
“As a light snack?”  
Magnus scrunched on the table, closing the distance between them. He looked like a lumpy scarecrow, with his bony shoulder tensing the fabric of his checkered shirt.   
“Listen.”  
He said, his voice turned into a barely audible whisper.  
“They don’t live inside the Mauler. They are basically trapped there. It’s dangerous for them to go out.”  
“Dangerous? For _them_?!”  
He didn’t even try to keep it down.  
“Graham’ s got a point.”  
Jude butted in the conversation with a nudge of his head. His sudden intrusion startled both the contenders. He had been silent the whole conversation, listening quietly enough to be almost forgotten. For being so big, sure he was good in blending with the background.   
 “A wolf can easily take down five of us without breaking too much sweat.” He observed.  
He had a deep unfussed voice, marked by a soft southern accent.  
“Thanks. Like I said…” ~~  
~~ Magnus interrupted him, holding his palm up only centimeters away from his face.  
Graham considered snapping his wrist.  
_Why he had to be so fucking full of himself …  
_ “Five? Sure. But what about twenty? Or thirty? Armored maybe. With weapons. Silver bullets. Full day suits. This sorta shit.”  
“How do you even get that stuff?”  
Jude whistled.  
“Damn, I knew that the black market was deep but…”  
Magnus dismissed them both, with a small wave of his skeletal hand.  
“Knowing the right person, paying the right amount. Same old shit. But anyway seems like it’s open season on the poor fuckers.”  
“What the hell?”  
“The Lycans. They are hunting them down.”  
“Who?”  
Magnus was getting visibly annoyed.  
“Fuck I know? Some other leech. Not me, obviously. How do you think that fatso of Bromex got his exotic pets? Sure as all fuck they did not volunteer.”  
He _did_ have a point. A point that Graham was not ready to give. ~~  
~~ Graham crossed his arms against his chest with an obstinate gesture.  
Magnus sighed, laying back on the tattered couch.  
“Point his, they can’t leave the Mauler and be sure to get back all in one piece. Still, they need things. Like medical supplies. Canned food. Pens, papers. Electronics. Tabacco, they really want tabacco. Even clothes, for fuck’s sake. Whatever we can get our hands on. “  
“Wasn’t the Mauler a shopping mall?”  
“You know, Graham, unlike you, things rot with time.”  
“And what will stop them from murdering us when pay up come along?”  
“I told you, they need us. They don’t have allies out there.”  
Graham shook his head in disbelief.  
“Are we talking coalitions now?”  
“You are so fucking fussy, Graham. It’s more like…a mutually beneficial relationship.”  
“Sound kinky.”    
Jude commented, with a cheeky half-smile.  
 “Look…”  
“Is he in?”  
Graham pointed at Jude.  
The blond gave him a relaxed smile.  
“I am in.”  
“Why?”  
Jude shrugged.  
“Adventure’s sake, I suppose?”  
Graham stared at him.  
“Really?”  
“ Kinda. I also have…a personal interest?”  
“In robbery?”  
Jude didn’t really answer. He shrugged again, smiling like an idiot, playing lazily around with his empty Synth pint.  
“You. Both of you. You must be out of your mind.”  
“Look, Graham…”  
Magnus couldn’t finish the phrase. It hit them as a physical blow.  
Fear, dense and syrupy, attacked their nostrils.  
_Human.  
_ Graham turned. They all turned, just in time to see a man his fifties, broad shouldered and with a bushy goatee, being dragged into the room by Angus, the _Fanged Man_ ’s infamously grumpy bartender.  
_No.  
Almost.  
Just Young.  
_ He lead the struggling thing towards a voluptuous vampire, spread lavishly in one of the tall bar stools. As many others, she was still wearing her working clothes. The back of her green overall stated “Derrillo Cigarz”. She twisted and tangled her long mane of dark brown locks, waiting eagerly. Her companions, a stubby looking man with a greasy braid and a tall woman with a bad blond dye job, slouched lazily against the counter. As many other patrons, their relaxed posture clashed with the predatory tension lightening up their eyes.  
The brunette made a show of throwing to the bartender a rolled up stack of notes. Unfazed, Angus caught the money with a swift motion.  
He took his time, counting the cash, keeping his claw entangled in the shaking fledgling’s hair.  He mumbled something, before tossing the terrified fledgling against the bar.  
His buyer didn’t’ t lose time. She pressed on him with the grace of a snake. She slid a hand on each side of hips, effectively trapping the shaking fledgling against the wooden counter.  
Half of the pub was staring, now.  
_She knew.  
_ She loved it.  
She caught her toy’s hair, pulling jokingly, nuzzling against his exposed neck.  
The man whimpered, as her tongue darted on his sickly pale skin.  
He was double her height, but the genuine terror in his blue eyes made him look almost child-like.  
Graham could feel his own fangs pushing against the soft flesh of his mouth.  
Angus took advantage of the momentary relative quiet to shout out at the crowd.  
“If any of ya guys want a sip, come back tomorrow. Fresh Fledgling. Only 600 bucks a go.  Special price.”  
Somebody whistled.  
“Is he made of gold?”  
Angus grinned.  
“Just a month out of the Fort. The most human taste you can get, in this part of town. Without having a funnel shoved down your throat, of course.”  
“Graham.”  
Magnus tapped his long nails on the lopsided table, trying to regain his attention.  
Graham tried to ignore him.  
Him and his fucking annoying tapping.  
“Graham.”  
Unsuccessfully.  
“What?”  
He barked, still unable to tear his eyes away from the titillating scene.  
“Dude!”  
Magnus grabbed his chin, forcing him to turn around. Graham snarled, slapping Magnus’s hand away from his face.  
“Do you want to fucking die?”  
“You won’t need this shit, if you follow the plan.”  
“What are you even talking about?”  
“600 bucks for a fucking placebo? Don’t make me laugh.”  
“ Like if your delirium is any better.”  
“It is. And if…”  
 A loud bang interrupted him mid-sentence.  
 The fledgling somehow escaped the vampire’s grip and was knocking tables and chairs down in his desperate flee attempt. ~~  
~~ Of course, they did not let him go far.  
His path was blocked by one of his tormentor in a matter of seconds.  
Many of the patrons were staring in amusement, entertained by his fruitless pain. They laughed, as he almost fell on his face, trying to change the course of his flight.  
He tried another direction, but again, the only thing he found was a pale cold body.  
He screeched and scooted away, halting not too far from Graham’s table, panting loudly.  
Graham growled quietly. _  
_ He could feel the fledgling panicked breathing echoing deep inside his bones.  
The little fuck didn’t even _need_ to breath.  
Graham got another unsatisfying sip of his insipid Synth. His now elongated fangs clunked against the glass.  
“And why exactly would you need _me?_ ”  
Graham inquired, trying to get back into business.  
It wasn’t like he really had 600 bucks at hand anyway.  
Magnus thin mouth warped in an uncanny smug grin.  
“I don’t need _you_.”  
“The fuck.”  
“Not exactly.”  
“Why am I even here then?”  
“Your van. We need your van.”  
“What.”  
In that moment, the fledglings started screaming.  
“Help!”  
Magnus said something, but it was impossible to hear anything over the ruckus.  
 “Help! Please! Help! I am vampire!”  
“You ain’t. You are a fledgling. Much different matter.”  
Pointed out one of the amused patrons.  
Magnus had to lean even closer, his mouth next to Graham’s ear.  
“We need to bring that shit to the Mauler without raising suspects.”  
The fledgling yelled louder.  
“So get someone else.”  
“Dammit, Graham, I need somebody I can trust.”  
“Please! Help!”  
“Who the fuck tells me I can trust _you_?”  
“You know, you are even more of a bitch…”  
“Help!”  
 “ Than I remembered. And I remember you being a huge wimpy…”  
“Somebody! Get me out of here…somebody…”  
 “I am the bitch? What about your little…”  
“Help! Pleaseplease, please!”  
Graham bashed his empty pint against the table.  
“Can you keep it down, for fuck’s sake? We are trying to have a conversation here.”  
The fledgling did shut up.  
But that must have been it.  
He realized that nobody was gonna help, there was no way out, and yes, he was caught. He let out a pitiful whine before, fangs and claws out, he went for Graham.  
The boot was small, too small to maneuver out of in time.  
Graham’s hissed in pain, as his throat was cut open.  
 A thick coating of black blood splattered on the table, showering the wood and, with Graham’s immense satisfaction, Magnus’ stupid face.  
_Karma.  
_ The man’s disgusted expression made his day.  
Graham didn’t even start to wipe the blood out of his eyes, that Angus materialized in the premises and grabbed the fledgling from the collar of his white shirt. He shoved him, face first, against the table.  
“You little fuck!”  
His nose broke with a loud crack.  
The buyer arrived almost immediately.  
“Don’t ruin him!” she fussed.  
“It’s your fault, Celia.”  Angus eyes were cold, his mouth scrunched thin in a grimace of disapproval.  
Celia did not look impressed. Even with his vision still blurred by the sudden blood loss, Graham could see her tangible annoyance.  
“The fuck, Angus? How could I know …”  
“How many times do I have to tell you not to play with the food?”  
He snarled.  
She hissed in response, showing off her warped canines.  
“You said you wanted a fucking show…”  
“Celia.”  
“What?”  
“Not in front of the clients.”  
Angus shushed her.  
She pinned him down with a killer look, before diverging her attention to Graham’s table and the gasping fledgling.  
“Oh, damn. Fuck. Guys. I am so sorry.”  
Graham laughed, a gravel- like sound, accompanied by the wheeze of the air coming out of his still open trachea.  
He was healing fast, but the cut was deep. His voice sounded like a cracked record.  
“Don’t worry. I was bored anyway.”  
Magnus sent him a killer look, while wiping some of the dark ooze from his face with the back of his orange work jacket. Graham placidly smiled back.  
Jude chuckled, strangely unaffected.  
His clothes weren’t as much in a state, but he got enough blood on his face to look like a melting clown mask.  
“Can I offer you guys a sip? Like, to make up for it. I am sure that you could get whatever on the house but…Synth fucking sucks.”  
“You wanna share him?” Graham raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What about your friends?”  
Celia shrugged.  
“They can get him another time. He is mine. Caught him two weeks ago.”  
“Oh. Tonight was a promo, uh?”  
“Well, yeah.”  
“Celia.” Angus warned.  
The young woman rolled her eyes.  
“What? Everybody does it, Angus. They know.”  
Angus snarled, his fangs glistening in the dim light.  
_So dramatic.  
_ Celia sighed.  
“You know what? I am gonna take it from now.”  
Angus howled in rage, shaking the fledgling like a ragdoll. Celia didn’t budge, keeping her dark eyes stuck on the angered bartender.  
 In the end, Angus gave up. He finally let go of the whimpering thing, before muttering a sarcastic: “As you wish.”  
The neophyte fell on his knees, sobbing loudly. The only thing that kept his face from hitting the floor was the Celia’s firm hand in his scalp.  
Angus gave her a hard stare before backing away towards the counter.  
“Cantankerous dick.”  
Celia commented.  
Jude sent her a bright smile.  
“How can the Fanged Man even afford a Fledgling?”  
He enquired, glancing curiously at the submitted vampire.  
“Let’s say that I owed a big one to Angus.”  
Celia winked.  
Graham smiled back.  
His throat was almost good as new. He could feel the last fragments of skin stitching together. It was impressive how much being fed could pump your healing mojo.  
 “Well, seems like we are done.”  
Magnus hissed, standing up with a clucky motion. The empty pint glass in front of him rolled on the table. Jude caught it before it could fall.  
“Ehi, dude, careful.”  
Magnus ignored him while he gracelessly slid off the cramped couch.  
“I am getting out of this fucking shithole.”  
“You don’t want a sip?” asked Celia, ever helpful.  
The look he gave her was dripping with spite.   
“No. I had enough _filth_ on me tonight.”he growled, giving Grahams an hard stare.  
_That was fucking it._  
He had enough.  
He stood up, bashing his palms on the sticky table.  
“That’s it. Why the fuck do you have to be such a frigging asshole?.”  
“Grow up! If you want to be taken seriously, stop behaving like the miserable lowlife you seem to despise so much.”  
“Then do me a favor, douchebag, and call me again when you have some serious offer on the table.  
Magnus dark eyes locked with Graham’s. The rage crooked his gangly body in a tense hook.  
“You gonna change your mind, Graham. You don’t want to admit it but I know you.”  
He roughly shoved Celia out of the way, kicking the fledgling in the process, and heavily stomped towards the exit  
“What the fuck is his problem?”  
She asked, with a hiss.  
“Nothing. He is just a cunt.”  
Graham pointed out, sliding out of his seat and standing next to the scowling brunette.  
He stared at his friend scrunched form.  
Magnus had black stains even behind his back. He would have to throw the damn shirt, as well as his work uniform.  
_Good._  
The door opened with a high pitched shriek.  
“And, Graham…”  
Magnus turned.  
Their gaze met.  
He licked his lips.  
“You taste like shit.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ages to update! Actually I had this chapter ready for almost three weeks, but I just couldn't get myself to like it.  
> It still feel a bit clunky, but hell, time to move on!  
> See you next time :D  
> Also, feedback are love.  
> If you hated it, tell me why!  
> If you enjoyed, leave at least a Kudos :D


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